Iris Murdoch - The Book And The Brotherhood

So the Crimondgesellschaft came into being. Of course no time-limit was mentioned. The committee, consisting of these piembers (only Joel never turned up), was to decide whether adjuscontributions should be increased (in pace with inflation) or ajusted (in relation to contributors circumstances). A kind of silence then ensued. The benefactors did not like to ask questions about the book in case they might seem to be anxious about their investment, and Crimond, after suitable initial gratitude, provided no reports or acknowledgements, In fact, as they ruefully noticed, he promptly and almost completely broke off relations with his 'supporters', and was only by hearsay known to be travelling in America. (`It's only to be expected,' said Jenkin understandingly.) There followed in due course, and not very long after, the drama in Ireland and its sequel, which has been recounted, which caused them all, especially Rose, a good deal of distress, and even anger against Crimond. After this, and after Jean's return to Duncan, friendship, even communication, with the offender seemed for a time no longer possible, although of course the monies in aid of the book, maintained at a generous level, continued to be paid as promised. Rose uttered feelings which the others hesitated to express in saying that Crimond ought not now to accept their help. But of course, as they all more soberly agreed, it was necessary to separate their ruffled feelings from their promise, and from the particular interest which had prompted it, an interest which referred back to Sinclair's original idea, and even further to Sinclair's affection for Crimond.

Loyalty to Jean and Duncan seemed for some while to preclude any communication with Crimond, but as time went on it seemed to Gerard absurd to make such a point of ignoring him. Gerard was incapable (earning' someone he knew, had in this instance known so long; as one grows older the fact of' having known someone 'all one's life' becomes more important. In any case he was interestedin Crimond and reluctant to lose touch with so unusual a man. So it was that Gerard did infrequently see the miscreant, ostensibly to ask about the book, though this subject was rarely raised and never pursued. Jenkin too, said disapprovingly by Rose to be 'soft' in this respect, saw Crimond now and then, coming across him in a more natural and ordinary way in political contexts, Jenkin, unlike Gerard and Duncan, having remained a member of the Labour Party. Crimond was still a member too, though threatened with expulsion and eventually expelled. This second and expulsion, which caused a stir and even a serious row the party, was said to have pleased Crimond very much, even completed some sort of' proof of the soundness of his ideas. He declared, in a speech unintelligible to his young audience who had never read Kipling, that now, like Mowgli, he would 'hunt alone in the forest'. If he expected cries of 'And we will hunt with thee', they did not come; there were however numerous gratifying expressions of sympathy in many qua y-Iris. Crimond continued to be politically active and audible, Npraking at meetings, writing articles and publishing ad hoc pamphlets. He was increasingly said, however, to have 'missed the bus'. He would never, with his extreme views, get into parliament, he was not regarded as an academic, he had no coherent intellectual position, and was also criticised for lacking any effective day-to-day connection with the praxis of the working-class movement. He had (it was said) no status except as a phenomenon, and his following of disaffected young people was not large enough to be dangerous. He appeared, indeed, as a lonely revolutionary hunter: a view which, on later estimates, did him less than justice.

Years passed during which Crimond continued to receive a salary which set h im free to indulge in political activity which his 'supporters' increasingly disapproved of, and to write, or pretend to write, a book which, if it ever appeared, must exert a dangerous and pernicious influence. It became more difficult to feel that this was simply a matter of keep' riga promise, and began to be thought of as a ridiculous, irrational, intolerable situation about which something must be done. This was the state of indecision which Crimond's second abduction of Jean Cambus seemed likely to bring to a head.

At about the time when Gerard was asleep at the kitchen table at the house in Notting Hill, and Duncan, in Kensington, war dropping Jean's slippers into a wastepaper basket, Tamar Hernshaw in Action, was sitting in a state of appalled misery facing her mother Violet. The flat was small and extremely dirty. Violet's bedroom, where the bed was never made, was full of the plastic bags which she compulsively collected. They were sitting in the kitchen. The floor was littered with newspapers, the table was covered with used plates, milk bottles, sauce bottles, pots of mustard, pots of jam, crusts of bread, bits of old cheese, a squeeze of butter in a greasy paper, a pot of tea, now cold, made for Tamar, who had not touched it. The discussion, which had been going on now for some time, had begun to repeat itself.

'I can't get a job,' said Violet, 'you know I can't get a job!'

'Couldn't you -?'

'Couldn't I what? I can't do anything! Even if I could get a part-time job as a waitress – we need big money, not scraps of what I could earn by killing myself slaving! You keep telling me I'm not young -'

'I don't, I just said -'

'Everything's gone up! You live in a dream world where you don't think about money. All right, it's my fault, I wanted you to have a good education -'

'I know, I know, I'm grateful -'

'Well now's the time to show it. Everything's gone up, rates, taxes, food, clothes, the mortgage – God, the mortgage, you don't even know what that is! We can't afford the telephone, I'm having it disconnected. And feeding you as a vegetarian costs the earth. You drift along as if everything will always be ordered to suityou! But I'm in debt, I'm seriously in debt, if we don't do something drastic we'll lose the flat.'

'I've got a grant,' said Tamar, restraining tears, for she was Inning to see that the situation was hopeless. 'And you know I can live on practically nothing – I don't need any clothes and -‘

‘You'll get anorexia again if you aren't careful, it isn't fair to I can judge what's fair to me!'

'No, you can't. You've had good years at the university enjoying yourself -'

'Can't we borrow from Gerard – or from Pat and Gideon -'

'I'm not going to go crawling to them, and I'll never forgive you if you do! Haven't you any pride, any respect for me? And hat's the use of getting even more into debt?'

'Or I could borrow from Jean -'

'From her? Never! I detest that woman – Oh I know she's your idol, you wish she was your mother!'

'Look,' said Tamar, though she knew this was even more out of the question, 'they're rich, Gideon is anyway, and jean they'd give us the money.'

'Tamar, don't make me sick! You don't imagine I like wiling you all this – I hoped I wouldn't have to. Please try to face reality, and help me to face it!'

'I can't give up Oxford now, I must do my final exams or the whole thing's thrown away – it's now or never -'

'You've got a funny idea of education if all you care about is a bit of paper to say you've passed an exam! You must have learnt something in two years, surely that'll do you, anyway it'll have to!'

'But I want to go on – if I get a first I can get another grant to stay on and do a doctorate – I want to really study, I want to be it scholar, I want to write, I want to teach – I must keep going now – later on is no good.'